


Barking up the wrong tree

by Claudia_flies



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Dodger the matchmaker, Dogs, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sexual Content, Summer in Massachusetts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14351160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_flies/pseuds/Claudia_flies
Summary: There’s a ruckus from the bushes to his left, and Sebastian will swear on his mother’s life that he does not scream when something brown and white rushes at him from the ditch.(He totally screams.)





	Barking up the wrong tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViperSeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperSeven/gifts).



> Viper posted a great prompt on Tumblr, and of course, I had to go and do it. 
> 
> The original prompt was as follows:
> 
> _Evanstan AU in which Sebastian finds this cute and sweet puppy wandering around lost and takes him home and texts the number on its ID tag to let the owner know his pet is safe, and the cute furball is named Dodger so when he hears the knock on his door and goes to open it Sebastian’s mostly expecting some weeping kid and his parent, not the anxious and adorably flustered big, gorgeous beast of a man he finds instead._
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Zilia as always!

 

 

Strangely, Sebastian finds that he doesn’t mind the suburbs of Boston. As a nearly lifelong New Yorker, he’d been afraid of developing hives or some other awful allergy when crossing the New York-Connecticut border, and then something even worse at the border up to Mass. The only reason he’s even here is to house-sit for a friend who was forced into some god-awful work trip to South America while his kitchen was only halfway installed. So, Sebastian gets to spend a few hot July weeks in suburban Boston.

The biggest surprise really has been how much he isn’t hating it. The route he’s currently running on goes through a nice woodland and across a few streams. It’s nicely shaded for an afternoon run, even in the heat. The air is fresh and he’s only seen a few other joggers and some dog walkers, but mostly seems to have this bit of woodland all to himself.

That’s at least until there’s a ruckus from the bushes to his left, and Sebastian will swear on his mother’s life that he does _not_ scream when something brown and white rushes at him from the ditch.

(He totally screams.)

The brown and white animal turns out to be a dog. Not a bear, definitely not a bear, but Sebastian thinks anyone would forgive him for thinking that. He’s a New Yorker! And there _ARE_ bears in Mass, he’s read about it in the news.

The dog, because it’s definitely a dog, is jumping up and down, trying to lick his face, wagging its tail manically. It’s even kind of cute. Sebastian pets its head and looks around, waiting for an owner. He knows a lot of people let their dogs run off-leash here, even with the leash laws. He’s pretty sure someone will come along soon to take the dog off his hands, or at least call the dog through the woods.

After ten minutes, he starts to worry. After fifteen, he’s looking at the dog’s collar to see if there’s a tag. He’s in luck. The bone-shaped tag has what he assumes is the dog’s name, ‘Dodger,’ and a phone number.

Disney. _Awesome_. He’s got some little kid’s dog. Plus no phone on him to make the call anyway. He curses the brainwave that made him decided to run without music today.

“Hello!” he shouts into the woods, and feels instantly stupid.

Then he ums and ahs for five more minutes before grabbing hold of Dodger’s collar and starting to walk him towards the trailhead. If he runs into anyone, he can ask if they know the dog. The house isn’t too far from the start of the trail and he can call the owners from the house. He doesn’t want to leave the dog in the woods if he’s really lost and some kid’s desperately looking for him.

Dodger walks good-naturedly by his side, even with Sebastian’s fingers around his collar pulling him along. He wags his tail and tries to chase after a few birds, but they get to where the trail connects to the back of the cul-de-sac easy enough.

The contractors seem to have finished for the day and the house is quiet when they get in. Dodger sniffs around in the front room and his nails make a clickety-clack noise on the wood flooring. Silently, Sebastian prays that the dog is housebroken while he looks for his phone.

It takes him another few minutes to catch Dodger again, who has now decided that running away from Sebastian around the couch is the best sort of game. Eventually, Sebastian manages to lure him to the kitchen door with a slice of cold-cut turkey.

Dodger munches on the treat happily while Sebastian dials the number. It rings for a while before someone picks up.

“Hello?”

The voice is surprisingly deep, which Sebastian wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, hey, hi! Sorry! Is this Dodger’s owner?”

“Yes!” There’s a slight edge of desperation in the man’s voice now.

“Oh great, I saw him running in the woods and nobody came for him, so I took him in. I hope that was okay?”

“Oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you! He ran off from the backyard. He never does that, I mean he’s never done that before, he’s such a good dog,” the man on the phone babbles on, and Sebastian can’t help but smile. “I’ve always had him in the back of the house and he’s always been fine before.”

“Okay, well, if you want to come and pick him up now?” Sebastian asks. He gives the man on the phone his address.

“That’s really close by, great, I’ll be there in like five minutes, okay?!”

Before Sebastian can answer, the line goes dead. He shrugs at Dodger, who’s looking at him with a cocked head. His wide brown eyes not leaving Sebastian’s face. He probably just wants more turkey and has figured that Sebastian’s a soft touch.

As predicted, Sebastian does go back to the fridge, and gives the dog another treat. The man on the phone did say that he’s a good dog. Usually. Dodger wags his tail happily, and Sebastian gives his head another pat.

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the front door.

When he opens the door, it’s not a kid and their father as Sebastian had been expecting. Not by a long shot. On the porch stands the most beautiful man Sebastian has ever seen. Lovely blue eyes and a soft-looking beard, and shoulders like a set of barn doors. Sebastian wants to climb this man like a tree.

Which make him simultaneously blush and stammer out “uh, hey, hi, ah–,”

Covertly, he checks for a wedding ring, because he’s that kind of asshole, and then promptly realizes that he’s wearing his sweaty running gear and hasn’t even had a shower yet. _Great_. Before he can utter a proper greeting, the dog barges past him and leaps at the man’s chest.

“Dodger!” the guy shouts happily, near-on catching the dog in the air with his bare biceps flexing. Sebastian is not looking.

(He is _so_ looking.)

Dodger is not even a particularly small dog. Sebastian tries to not be impressed at the weight-carrying ability of those biceps. He fails.

“Hi!” he says stupidly, trying to cover his continuous embarrassment.

“Hi!” says the man, and then blushes adorably. “I’m Chris.”

“Sebastian,” Sebastian says and takes the man’s offered hand even as Dodger, who’s wedged between them, is desperately trying to lick Chris’ face. Clearly admitting defeat, Chris lowers the excited dog down onto the porch, and Sebastian tries to decidedly ignore the way his t-shirt pulls over his chest and shoulders. He fails miserably. Again.

“Thank you so much for finding him, I was so worried, I only adopted him about a year ago!” Chris exclaims, and he sounds so genuinely grateful.

Sebastian just shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s no problem." He feels he needs to somehow explain his sweaty appearance, so he adds, "He just came out of the woods while I was out for a run, so no worries, man.”

“I want to thank you!” and then Chris is patting his pockets like he’s looking for a wallet, and Sebastian panics. Shaking his head and waving his hands.

“Oh no, no, it’s totally fine! Please, I was happy to help!” He motions towards the house and the half-done kitchen Chris won’t even be able to see from the door. “I’m just house-sitting here, my friend’s having his kitchen done and he’s away, so not doing much at all.”

“You have no kitchen?!”

Chris seems totally outraged by even the mere suggestion of a lack of food-preparation facilities.

“Oh, it’s fine!” Sebastian says breezily. He can’t cook anyway, but it’s not like he’s going to say that out loud to this specimen of manhood who clearly is into food. Like _really_ into it, as the next thing coming out of his sweet, sweet mouth is “let me cook you dinner! Tonight!” while Dodger whines and licks his hand for attention.

“Uh, you really don’t need to…” Sebastian tries to hedge, already hot under the collar at the mere thought of dinner with this man, but Chris seems more than set on the idea.

“I insist! As a thank you!”

And with that, Sebastian finds himself agreeing to have dinner with Chris. Who’s probably straight, he tries to tell himself. Definitely straight. Clearly.

That doesn't stop Sebastian from jerking off in the shower. The most awkward thing at a dinner with a straight guy would be an errant gay boner over the gorgeous host, he reasons with himself, while he works his hand over his dick, thinking of Chris’ plush mouth and wide hands.

After the shower, he spends almost thirty minutes trying to find something to wear. It’s not like he has his whole wardrobe with him, he’s been mostly living in gym shorts and t-shirts. He resists texting a friend for help. He’s not quite that desperate, thank you very much.

(He _is_ exactly that desperate. A fourteen-month dry spell is nothing to scoff at.)

Eventually, he settles for a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater. It’s classic, tidy. He’s also wearing his nicest pair of underwear, because hope never killed anyone. He tries to tame his hair, but ends up giving up and letting it flop over his forehead. It always does its own thing anyway.

Chris’ house is only a short walk away. He’d texted Sebastian the address an hour prior, apologizing profusely for not having done it sooner. The whole neighbourhood is nice, with tree-lined yards and colorful painted doors.

The door of Chris’ house is a nice blue color, and it opens almost as soon as the doorbell has gone off. Chris is there with Dodger behind him manically wagging his tail at their visitor. Chris waves him inside with a “hey, hi! Welcome!” and Dodger’s already sniffing at his jeans and hands, looking for a treat.

“Sorry, buddy, no more turkey for you,” Sebastian says as he pats the dog’s head and sides. Dodger seems happy enough with the attention, even without the treat.

Chris shows him through to the living room and then into the kitchen. “I made lasagna! I hope you like that,” Chris says proudly, pointing to the still-steaming casserole dish on top of the cooker, but then his face suddenly falls and he turns back to Sebastian, almost panicked. “Oh, no. You don’t have any food allergies? Are you a vegetarian?”

It’s so endearing and Sebastian can’t help but smile. “Nope! No allergies, not a vegetarian. Lasagna sounds great! Looks great!”

“It’s my mom’s recipe,” Chris says with a smile.

He’s got everything set up in the kitchen, which is nice. It feels homey and intimate. Like a date. But it’s _not_ a date, Sebastian has to remind himself. The table in the corner of the room is a nice old wooden farmhouse table, and there’s a jug of water, a bottle of wine and some plates already waiting. Chris rummages through one of the drawers near the cooker, while Sebastian is busy looking around.

“A knife and a fuck?”

“What?”

Sebastian is pretty sure he heard that one correctly, and Chris’ tomato-red face indicates it to be the case as well.

“Fork! Knife and fork,” Chris yelps, horrified, and shoves the offending items into Sebastian’s hands like they’re scalding him.

Sebastian takes the offered cutlery with a smirk. “Thank you, Chris,” he says, and can’t help adding, “I would love some,” while watching Chris turn even redder, if that’s even possible.

Mumbling something, Chris turns to the cooker and starts plating the lasagna. He gets a big salad out of the fridge too, and pours both of them some wine, motioning for Sebastian to sit. He seems to have composed himself, smiling and joking about a secret family recipe as he dishes out the salad.

Chris is surprisingly easy to talk to, laid-back but earnest. He talks a lot about his family and Dodger, and a bit about cooking. The food is really great, and Sebastian tries to keep his noises of enjoyment just below pornographic levels. He may not be quite successful enough in that, if the look on Chris’ face is anything to go by. To cover his embarrassment, Sebastian grabs the wine glass, taking a hearty swig.

"Oh, I love this wine, it’s a great wine!” He isn’t gushing dammit, he’s being _polite_ , making _conversation_ , but Chris seems pleased anyway. Smiling at Sebastian across the table, and before Sebastian knows it his mouth is making words again. Terrible, horrible words.

“I could never really drink wine with my ex-boyfriend, he was more of a beer guy, you know."

And yeah, he just said that, just slid that into the conversation. Because he’s super smooth, and horny, and nothing if not a gambler at heart. Or, you know, of the heart.

Chris chokes on the piece of bread he’d just put in his mouth and takes a long gulp of water to try and hide his coughing.

“Uhm, yeah, that’s – yeah, wine is nice,” he nods amidst the coughing, also taking another sip from his own wine glass.

Yeah, smooth Sebastian. Totally smooth.

He doesn’t really know what to say to dig himself out of that hole. He’s just being clumsy, reaching out for the salad bowl to cover up his inability to keep his mouth shut and ends up elbowing his fork off the table. It clatters as it drops on the floor.

“Oh, let me get you another one –,” Chris is already getting out of his chair.

“No, don’t worry, I can get one –,” Sebastian’s standing up and reaching for the drawer next to the cooker. They both reach the pulley at the same time, hands touching on the handle, and Sebastian can’t help himself, and just blurts out “You really do wanna give me that fuck?”

Chris is staring at him, his eyes wide as saucers, their fingers still touching. Sebastian makes a noise, he thinks to apologise, but Chris surges towards him and then they’re kissing. Chris’ hands are in his hair and his hands are on Chris’ shoulders and _Jesus he’s so fucking built_ is the only thought running through Sebastian’s head.

There’s no finesse to it, noses smushed together like they’re both trying to get close enough, and then Chris is lifting him up and _holy shit_ , he’s sitting on the counter and Chris is pressing in between his spread-out legs. Shoving his hands down the back of Sebastian’s jeans, chanting “fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so hot, fuck,” while trying to desperately keep their lips together in another messy kiss.

They end up fucking half-on half-off the bed, in what Sebastian assumes is Chris’ bedroom, with Sebastian still wearing his t-shirt and Chris’ jeans rucked up around his knees. To be fair, they had barely made it into the room out of the hallway. There’s several askew paintings and a cracked sideboard left in their wake.

Chris’ cock is hot and hard inside him, and he ploughs Sebastian like a champion, all the while talking about how hot and pretty and tight Sebastian is. It’s a hell of a way to break a dry spell, Sebastian can tell you that.

With fuck-clumsy hands, Sebastian reaches for the discarded tube of lube, and slicks up a finger. Presses it between the tight cheeks of Chris’s ass, teasing the firm pucker of Chris’s hole. Chris comes as soon as he curves the finger inside, with a desperate little shout. Hips working staccato, like he’s not sure whether to fuck into Sebastian’s ass or press into that finger in him.

He slides out and flops off Sebastian, rolling on the bed on his belly. And then he’s working his knees under himself, pushing his ass up into the air like an engraved invitation. Growling “fuck me!” over his shoulder.

Well, he doesn’t have to ask Sebastian twice.

He works one, then two fingers into Chris’s ass, slicking him up good and proper, before sliding his cock in. Chris is tight, and hot, and he moans as Sebastian sets up a decent rhythm, hands spread out over Chris’ ass cheeks. Chris reaches back, grabbing Sebastian’s hip, and directing him the way he likes it. Sebastian’s too on edge to last long, and with one last squeeze of Chris’ hand on his ass he comes, grunting into Chris’ shoulder, panting like he’s just run a marathon.

They lie in a heap on the bed until a familiar clickety-clack sound of nails on the wooden floor and the creak of a door jolts them both up from their stupor.

Dodger is standing by the bed, holding a stuffed lion in his mouth. Then he squeezes down with his jaw on one of the lion’s paws and the room is suddenly filled with the noise of a tinny version of ‘in the jungle the mighty jungle’.

Sebastian will swear to his dying day that the dog looks at them and smiles.


End file.
